


Endless Talking/Life Rebuilding

by test_kard_girl



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Movies, Dungeons & Dragons, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gremlins, Knitwear, Mom Steve Harrington, Multi, Nancy Wheeler is a BadAss, Nice things for Will Byres, Protective Siblings, RIP Bob, Scoops Ahoy, Skateboarding, Sleepovers, Snow, Snowball Fight, Step-siblings, Stop tormenting the Byres family, Summer, Team as Family, Will-centric, christmas gifts, comic books instead of feelings, comic nerds, comics as currency, kind of, moving home, not in hawkins anymore, overdosing on candy, these kids deserve happiness omg, will gets to play D&D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/test_kard_girl/pseuds/test_kard_girl
Summary: Just a wee series of fluffy Will-centricStranger Thingsdrabbles. Sorry not sorry. Aiming for one a day in the run up to Christmas. Will probably get more festive as time goes on becausefluff.Character appearances picked out of a hat, prompts inspired by songs from theStranger Thingssoundtrack and all completely random. Soz if your faves aren't in here.Title from Joy Division's 'Atmosphere'.Update 31/12/19:Although these were all written separately, and can all be read separately, I've updated the chapter order to give more of a  kind ofemotional arcif you're reading all in one go. Also, theremaybe a sneaky extra chapter in there, because eagle-eyed viewers may have noticed I missed a day in the run-up to Christmas. Happy reading!
Comments: 32
Kudos: 22





	1. Moving in stereo | Will Byres + El Hopper + the whole gang via technology

**Moving in stereo* | Will Byres + El Hopper + the whole gang via technology**

'El!' 

'I'm coming, I'm coming, stop yelling!' El skids out of the kitchen, massive bowl of freshly popped popcorn clutched to her chest. 

'T minus eight minutes!' Will reminds her.

'Are they there yet?' She demands, collapsing onto the massive pile of cushions and blankets arranged across the lounge floor. 

Will's fiddling with the TV remote. He flicks through one, two, three channels of snowy static fuzz before it clears to black. 

'Is your radio on?'

'Yes! Yes-' El's patting down the pile of fabric around her '-Wait, where-?'

' _Put your radio on_!'

El dives across the cushions to drag her tranceiver out from under the sofa. She twists the dial; pushes the speak button down:

'This is Griswold Extended Family in position for operation 'Mogwai', do you copy, over?' She reports.

Will blows the hair out of his eyes, watching the counter on the VCR tick over. When it reaches 00:00:30 he hits pause, leaving the copyright warning flickering threateningly across the screen. 

He twists around: 

'Are they there?'

El has her teeth buried in her bottom lip:

'...Not...yet.'

Bringing the remote with him, Will drags himself backwards to sit with El at the foot of the sofa, bean bag jammed behind him. 

El has a Santa hat pulled down close over her ears. Will is basically drowning in an awful knitted red and green jumper that might have once actually belonged to his father. It's kind of festive but mostly, their heating packed in two days ago.

Flippin' _Christmas_.

Will twists his own handset on and the two lean in close, listening for any change in the monotonous hum of radio static. 

El's fingers drum impatiently against her leg. 

'...Maybe they've forgotten?' 

They glance at each other. 

'No way.' Will replies; presses down his own transmitter button:

'Repeat: Griswold Extended family in positon, over. Does anyone copy? Over.' 

Still nothing.

El peels the cuff of her mitten back to look at her watch: 'Six fifty-fou--'

\---Suddenly, the tv screen in front of them flickers; the light on the sideboard flickers; the kitchen light buzzes, buzzes again, like there's a furious wasp trapped in the lighshade; dies.

'...The shit...?' Will murmurs. 

'-- _We're here, we're here, Griswold Family Home Base in position, over_!'

El and Will cringe away from the howl of feedback swallowing Lucas' words. 

' _We were sabotaged by a particularly nasty little gremlin, over!_ '

There's a shout of protest in the background that sounds suspiciously like Erica. 

Will and El grin at each other, more relieved than they want to admit. Will jams the speak button again:

'They put 'em in cars, they put 'em in yer TV...' He quotes.

' _Is your tape queued up, Extended Family? Over?_ ' Mike is all business. He's a big fan of a watchalong.

'Ready to go at nineteen-hundred, over.' Will assures him.

'I still don't get how this is a Christmas movie,' El complains for the zillionth time into her walkie-talkie. 'It has monsters.' 

Mike's sigh sends another wave of crackling over the channel: ' _You can have monsters at Christmas-time, El.'_

' _Yeah, no shit_.' Max deadpans. 

' _The real monster in this movie is of course, Randall Peltzer's shitty parenting.'_ Dustin puts in cheerily.

 _'He buys his kid a fluffy Gizmo for Christmas! How is that shitty_?'

 _'A fluffy Gizmo that turns into a gibbering hell-squirrel_!' 

There's a burst of static as Mike coughs something that sounds weirdly like ' _Dart_ ' into his handset.

' _Ah, how soon they forget_.' Lucas drawls.

' _That was a totally different matter, that was a_ rescue _\--_ '

'--Six fifty-nine!' El interrupts happily, and cracks open her can of Pepsi using absolutely no hands before settling down against Will's shoulder. 

' _Uh-oh_!' Max's Gizmo voice warns, and there's a sudden silence as everyone scampers into their final viewing positions, ignoring their walkie-talkies.

Will fumbles out the remote and readies his finger on the 'play' button.

'It's totally a Christmas movie.' He assures El, just in case she's still unconvinced. 

'I know.' She shrugs 'But it makes Mike crazy.'

They bump Pepsi cans.

' _Three_!' Mike hollars down the line.

' _Hey Dustin, is Susie in this movie_?' Lucas.

 _'I see why you'd think that--_ ' Dustin returns sharply.

' _Two_!' Max.

' _But Susie's actually_ hotter _than Phoebe Cates, so._..' 

' _One_!'

Grinning, Will presses play. 

_*Moving in Stereo_ \- The Cars


	2. Ignite our dreams of starry skies | Will Byres + Jonathan Byres

**Ignite our dreams o** **f starry skies*** **| Will Byres + Jonathan Byres**

The numbers on his clock radio shine glow-worm green in the dark.

_02:15_

He loved that clock when he got it. He still likes it. Setting it and resetting it and knowing all the weird sequences of buttons to change all the modes. And even last winter, after...everything... the bright numbers clicking over in the dark were...comforting...And in the deep, suffocating November nighttime they could still be comforting-

_02:37_

-could still be-

_03:06_

-if they weren't so...

_03:26_

...If it wasn't so...

_04:12_

Shit.

 _'Shit_.' Will exhales into the cold, brittle darkness.

He kicks off his comforter, glowering mutinously up at the ceiling.

After the Mindflayer, he slept for days. Or that's what his friends tell him, anyway. When he tries to think back all he can remember is numbness, his whole body vibrating with tiredness and pumped full of whatever it was they pumped him full of, his mom's arms locked around him--and he didn't even care; didn't ever want to leave them, _ever_. But it's worn off now. It's worn off now and it's just like the last time... The darkness pressed into his pores, his mind crammed into one corner of his skull and _screaming_ and it's not his mom's arms around him anymore, it's not human at all, it's- it's--  
  
Will bites his lips hard together, turning his head around to stare at the clock again.  
  
The ghoulish numbers stare back at him. A tiny _click_ as the 4 tilts over:  
  
_04:15  
_  
Then; he blinks the dampness out of his eyes. Remembers something.

**O**

The door creaks in its familiar way, and Jonathan's voice comes, soft and worried.  
  
'Hey. You okay?'  
  
''M fine.'  
  
'Heard you get up.'  
  
'I'm _fine_.' Will repeats. 'I couldn't sleep. Got some milk.'  
  
He listens to his brother waver for a second in the doorway. Then, Jonathan nudges the door closed and comes over to sit beside him against the foot of his bed.  
  
Will buries his face deeper into the neck of his bathrobe and continues painting, naming the stars silently in his head.   
  
After a few minutes, Jonathan knocks Will's knee with his own:  
  
'What's that? Orion?'  
  
'Andromeda, moron.' Will returns, but soft. Then, wiping his brush off on the side of the jar: '...You didn't need to get up. It's not a national emergency everytime I get out of bed.'  
  
He can _hear_ Jonathan's mouth thin. '...Yeah just, every other time.'  
  
Will doesn't reply. Instead, he puts a careful last dot for Almach, Gamma Andromedae, the toes of Andromeda's left foot.  
  
'Can you hit the light?' He asks.   
  
He sees Jonathan glance at him, eyebrow half-raised-- but he does what he's told, leaning over to flick the switch on Will's desk lamp.  
  
It takes half a second for their eyes to adjust. Then, through the darkness, Will's constellations burn into life: the faint greenish glow of dozens of painted stars, appearing on the floor in front of them.  
  
'Oh cool...' Jonathan smiles. He reaches out a hand, his fingers silhouetted against the sparkling pinpricks.  
  
'...Mr Clarke gave it me.' Will explains. 'For my _Ghostbusters_ costume... It's got, like luminescent phosphors in it; it charges up in the daytime then releases visible light in the dark.'  
  
'Wow.' Jonathan breathes. Then: '...You are _such_ a geek.'   
  
Will jabs him in the stomach with his elbow. 

Together, the two Byres kids take in the star-speckled blackness. Somewhere at the back of their heads--way, way back--there's memories of fireworks, and campfires; of sleeping bags in the yard and driving home laying on their backs in the bed of dad's pickup...Long summer nights when playing in the woods was still allowed. When the sky was open and clear and empty of monsters.

Jonathan's shoulder shifts against his brother's:   
  
'We could paint them on the ceiling.' He suggests quietly. 'In here... Could you do it that big?'  
  
Will just nods, bright dots drifting in front of his eyes. They're still there, when he closes his eyes.  
  
They're still there.   
  
'You'd help me?'  
  
'...'Course. Sure thing.'

[* _Nocturnal Me_ -Echo & the Bunnymen](https://open.spotify.com/album/3V4j1tMdQqpq8nwW02UOiW)


	3. Takin' what they're givin' 'cause I'm workin' for a livin' | Dustin Henderson + Steve Harrington + Will Byres

**Takin' what they're givin' 'cause I'm workin' for a livin'* | Dustin Henderson + Steve Harrington + Will Byres**

'Oh and can I get another scoop of Tutti Frutti in there?'

'Of course-- for another fifty cents.' Dustin smiles widely, sliding the girl's sundae boat back along the counter-top into Will's waiting hands. 

Will sighs, dunking his scooper into hot water again before resuming his battle with the most un-cooperative flavor of ice-cream ever. 

'...Three scoops and toppings are free though.' Dustin confides 'So in the long run you're probably making a saving...' 

Across the counter, the girl-- who Will think was in the year above Jonathan at High School-- blinks. 'Can I have those little gummy diamond things?'

'Oh, no no no, my mistake.' Dustin's eyes widen. 'Those are premium toppings. I meant our _standard_ toppings come free.' He waves an generous hand over the many pots of multi-colored sugary goodness lined up at the front of the till. 'Take your pick.' He tilts his _Scoops_ hat further back on his head with a practiced flick of his fingers. 'Personally, I'm a huge fan of the butterscotch crumble.'

'Watch out, it's a bit...overloaded.' Will warns, handing the sundae boat carefully back over the counter. He's generous with portion sizes, but it does make things a bit kind of...Melty. He points: 'There's napkins on the side.'

The girl stares between the two of them. 'Um thanks.' Then, digging in her purse for some bills: 

'...So what is this? Like, bring your kid to work day?'

Will drops his ice-cream scoop back into the hot water with a splash, just as Dustin starts smacking him urgently in the arm:

'Dude-dude-dude--'

'-- _What the hell are you dipshits up to_?!' 

Will looks up to see the red, white and blue blur of Steve Harrington and his _Scoops Ahoy_ uniform jogging across the floor towards them. His eyes are...Way bigger than normal.

'What are...? Where's Pete?' He demands, waving a hand 'Where's Robin--?' 

Dustin slams the till closed with a clang. 'Glad you're back Harrington.' He says cooly 'We're running low on Cherries Jubilee. And I had to send out to Tilt for more Rainbow Rocks.'

Steve's mouth works soundlessly for a bit.

'Um, Robin left a note...' Will reaches over and pulls it off the spike of till receipts: ' _"Be a better mom."_ ' He reads, shaking his head. 'I have no idea what she's talking about.'

Steve narrows his eyes at them.

'--You-You can't just...Okay.' He stomps over; slams the counter open: 'Get out from there. C'mon get-Get out--'

'-But we were doing a great job--!' Dustin protests.

'--No!'

'--Everyone loves us--'

'-- _Highly illegal_ , that's the kind of job you're doing--'

'--But _mom_!--'

'--Zip it, Henderson--'

Will tries to duck neatly past, but Steve plucks the hat from his head: 'Nope, not for you.'

'Aw, but--'

'-- _No_. Full-size employees only.'

He jams the hat back on his own head. It does absolutely nothing for his attempts to look in charge. 

'Are you kidding, here? I could get _fired_. You could've given someone Diabetes, I dunno, can I ground you? Is that--? I think I'm grounding you...'

Will and Dustin collapse into laughter, slinging their backpacks back up onto their shoulders: 

'You can't catch Diabetes, Steve.'

Steve just stares furiously. 'What.. _.Whatever_ , just _be gone_ , losers--'

'--Fine!...But we're still on for _The Goonies_ tomorrow, right?' Dustin calls. 

Steve buries his hands in his ridiculous hair.

'Oh my god fine, sure, whatever makes you leave me alone! Go on, you walking zit sacks... Get out of my place of gainful employment...'

[* _Workin' For A Living_ \- Huey Lewis & the News](https://open.spotify.com/track/1GbqmRw9pqTVxA1GgIFX7e)


	4. In the seasons of wither we'll stand and deliver | Chief Jim Hopper + Will Byres

**In the seasons of wither we'll stand and deliver* | Chief Jim Hopper + Will Byres**

  
'So, Will. You ever cut down a tree before?'

Will gives the Chief a side-eye. 'Sure.' He lies flatly, and the man raises an eyebrow. 'I mean...' He shoves his gloved hands into the pockets of his windbreaker 'No. But...We have a real fire in the house. We- Mom lets me chop the wood for that.'

'Okay, so you know how to use an ax. That's good, that's...Points for that. This little titch'll give us no trouble.'

The Chief smiles-- the kind of smile he used to use on Will going back to the car after their visits to Dr Owens--and gives the fat little conifer beside him a shove so a shower of needles scatter at their feet.

'You got the spray paint there?'

Will pulls the aerosol can out of his backpack. The Chief goes to take it from him, but Will stares pointedly at his cigarette until the man catches on and exhales a melodramatic stream of smoke into the wintry air:

'What? You want a smoke?'

'You want to start a forest fire?' Will returns. 'Tell me where to paint.'

'...Fine.' The Chief takes another drag and crouches down, drawing a line across the rough bark of the tree trunk with his finger. 'Okay, so, we want gravity to do most of the work, so draw a line about a third down from these thick branches. You want cut off all this extra shit first so we can see it?'

Will does as he suggests, gripping the ax tight in his gloved hands, lopping off the skinny low-liers with neat, small strokes, trying to look like he knows what he's doing. 

The Chief finishes his cigarette and immediately pulls another one out of his pocket. Will gets the idea he doesn't spend a lot of time around kids. 

'So, uh. Your friend Mike." The Chief says 'He's a good kid, right?'

Will drops the ax; starts pulling off the final twigs with his hands. 'Sure, I guess.'

'You guess?'

'Well I wouldn't be friends with him if _I_ didn't like him.' Will explains. 

'... _He_ know how to use an ax?' 

Will twists around. The Chief meets his raised eyebrows with a kind of ironical smile of his own. 

'Fine, fine. Enough of the third degree. Here.' He reaches over and tosses the paint can back to Will. 'A third down. Just do a line, whatever. So you have something to aim at.'

Will gives the can a shake-- the rattle of the spray can sounds huge among the dense, silent trunks of the forest-- and draws a neat, thin line all the way around their little conifer. When he's done he drops the can at his feet and picks up the ax again.

'Okay, just, set the blade on the line. Yeah, like that. Draw it back to about...Here, yeah...And just, do a practice swing. Okay.'

Will swings and jumps a bit at the _thunk_ of metal impacting wood. The rattle of it goes right through his bones.

The Chief sounds like he's trying to keep from smiling: 'Okay, well. Yeah. Close. Try again.'

Will swings again.

The others are waiting back at the cabin, sprawled around the Chief's living room disentangling the Christmas lights, dusting off decorations that are probably older than they are, and that mostly exist in sparkly fragments at the bottom of some moldy cardboard boxes shoved under the Chief's bed. 

'...What did you do last year, for Christmas?' Will asks, gritting his teeth as the ax thuds into the trunk again. This time, it's almost exactly on the line. He feels something hot squeeze around his heart. 'With...Eleven? Did you have a tree then?'

'Uh... No, we, uh. Didn't have a tree--Don't let your hands slip...'

Will hits the mark again, and now he can see the dent in the trunk that he's making. If he can just keep hitting that...

'...Last year I was mostly just trying to keep her alive. And keep...those assholes from the lab from finding her.'

'Mike never stopped talking about her.' Will interjects, and this time watches a chunk of wood skitter to the forest floor. 'All year.'

He stops, sweating horribly inside all his winter layers. Shoves his hair out of his eyes. He can feel the Chief looking at him, but he doesn't look round; just adjusts his grip and his feet and lines up again. 

'Well that's something I guess.' The Chief sighs.

Will swings, hits the mark, lines up again. Clearly satisfied he isn't going to accidentally decapitate any squirrels, the Chief wanders back over to his truck and pulls a Thermos out of the bag in the front. 

'You want some chocolate?'

Will shakes his head; swings the ax again. 'I'm fine.'

'Suit yourself. It's got Bourbon in it anyways.'

' _You're kidding_.' Will pauses mid-stroke to throw horrified eyes back at him. But the Chief just smirks and gives him an enigmatic little salute with the Thermos mug.

Will keeps hacking away at the tree. He's finding a rhythm now and it's nice, to do a thing and not think about it too hard. To not have his brain whirring away in the background, freaking out. And having the clean, cold, _green_ air of the forest in his lungs...It helps. That's always helped. 

'Y'know...' The Chief starts again 'I don't know- how much you remember about bein' in the hospital. In the lab.' He corrects. Will hears him rubbing at his stubble. 'But... Your buddy Mike didn't leave you for a minute. He came in with your mom and me and he wasn't going anywhere. He had four orderlies on him trying to chuck him out but he wasn't leaving you for shit.'

Will swings for the tree trunk again--and this time he has no idea if he hits the line or not--but there's a _crack_ that sends a murder of crows scattering from the canopy around them.

' _Yes_. Hey that's great. You're doin' great.' The Chief claps a hand against his shoulder, just for second.

Will pushes a hand across his eyes, catching his breath. He thinks about the others, back at the Chief's cabin, laying the decorations out for Eleven's first proper Christmas. 

Eleven. El. 

Will has a sheaf of psych reports at home with his number on them too. The Chief has a file at the police station. 

'...Is this child labor?' He asks eventually, as light as he can 'Am I being exploited?'

The Chief snorts:

'Would I do that? I'm the Chief of Police. Now c'mon get round here, do the other side.'

* _Shout at the Devil_ , Mötley Crüe


	5. The truth comes out | Robin Buckley + Will Byres + Nancy Wheeler

**The Truth Comes Out* | Robin Buckley + Will Byres + Nancy Wheeler**

Robin buries her face in her hand, shaking with silent laughter.

'Oh my god, this is too excellent.' She whispers.

Against her shoulder, Nancy shifts slightly. Will thinks he hears something like: '...Sick poetry, It's _sick poetry_ I _told_ you...'

They're the last ones up, giggly and nonsensical after sixteen straight hours of Griswold Family/Scoops Troop reunion blowout extravaganza. Lucas and Max left, dragging Erica home, a coupla hours ago; and Jonathan started protesting he had work in the morning as soon as Steve showed up. But the clock on the VCR says 01:48 and everyone else is still sprawled around the Wheeler's disaster-zone lounge, unconscious and snoring and...weirdly snuggly after that last bowl of every-kind-of-Jell-O-whisked-together.

(Upon reflection, it tasted really suspect and Will's pretty sure Mr Wheeler's drinks cabinet used to have a lot more vodka in it). 

Robin flails a gleeful hand at him:

'Did you- did you _know_ she did this?' 

'Honestly?' Will gulps another handful of Skittles 'When Nancy sleeps over at mine I just keep my headphones on as much as possible...' 

Which just sends Robin into another fit of giggling and Nancy lolling closer into her neck.

'Wise. Totally wise, Will... I get why they call you that.'

' _Right_?'

He likes Robin-- after he got over not being able to look her in the face for like three weeks, obviously. But she talks about books and paints her Doc Martens with nail polish and cracked a Russian spy code with a pocket dictionary and a _Scoops Ahoy_ whiteboard, so she's probably the coolest person he's ever known. 

Lucas thinks Will has a crush on her. But then, Lucas is kind of an idiot. 

'Mike does it too.' Will glances towards where Mike and El are snoring and smushed up together on Mr Wheeler's armchair, covered in Cheetos dust. 'Must be a Wheeler thing. We used to ask him questions.'

'Hear that Nance?' Robin stage-whispers into the other girl's ear. She lifts her shoulder a bit and Nancy twitches: 'What do you _really_ think about Steve's new hair? Dork-tastic, right?'

The two of them hold their breath. Then, Nancy's eyebrows screw up in the middle of her forehead:

'...Beautiful addition, beaut...Like a... puffy dog....'

Which has Will burying his face against the sofa and Robin giggling so hard she starts making weird breathy squeaking noises that make Will wonder if he'll need to call 911. 

It must be all too much for unconscious Nancy, because suddenly -- and kind of weirdly gracefully--she slips right off Robin's shoulder and lands neatly in the other girl's lap.

Instantly, Robin's eyes get kind of huge. 

'Oh. Um. Okay then. Shit _._ ' 

She holds her hands straight up in front of her.

'Elmo. Help me.' 

' _How_?' Will grins into his cushion. 'Roll her off!'

'She'll hit the floor!' Robin protests 'I'll bruise her perfect, porcelain cheekbones!'

'Wake her up then!'

'I don't--' Robin frowns, twisting to look down at Nancy's face. 'Oh god, she's stopped talking. I can't wake her up now, the REM's kicked in...' 

Very, very carefully she brushes a curl of hair out of Nancy's face.

'Nance?' She whispers 'Nancy--'

'--Oh fuck _off_ Steve!' 

Will hasn't laughed so hard in _months_. 

[* _Talking in Your Sleep_ \- The Romantics](https://open.spotify.com/track/7fRvtXvJMpGfTLdF0M09a1)


	6. Tryin' to get a message through | Will Byres + Dustin Henderson

**Tryin' to get a message through* | Will Byres + Dustin Henderson**

Will crouches down to pick a couple more stones--good for skipping, wide and flat and not too heavy--and when he straightens up again, there's the crunch of tyres on shingle behind him and Dustin's there, wheeling his bike gingerly down to the water. Will feels his stomach knot.

'Mike said you were sick!' Dustin shouts to him. His voice echoes hugely around the quarry walls, but it doesn't sound accusing. 

Will ignores him, turning the biggest pebble over in his hand before he launches it towards the water. It skips, one, two, three, four, five times; vanishes into the lake.

'...Then I go to your mom's,' Dustin continues 'and your mom says you're at the Wheelers.'

Will stares at the ripples, watches them stretch out and out and out. He hears Dustin setting his bike down; listens to the hiss-rattle of the peddles spinning. 

'...And like, I _know_ you're not at the Wheelers 'cos I just came from there--'

'--This why you're going to science camp?' Will snaps, turning to him: 'Your crazy deduction skills?'

Dustin just knocks his hat back on his head with his thumb and looks at him. Will glares back for all of forty seconds before the shame starts to kick in. 

'...Sorry.' He mutters.

'...I know.' 

Dustin crouches down; picks a few good pebbles out of the rubble and passes one to Will, which Will immediately drops. 'Too round.' He defends, holding his hands up. Dustin rolls his eyes: 'Sorry Goldilocks.' He retorts and throws him the next one. Which _is_ better, to be fair.

Will turns back to the water, squinting to gauge his angles through the sunlight glittering across the surface. A breeze has gotten up. He skims the pebble and watches it hop three, four times before it sinks. Dustin's comes next, managing three and half jumps before it plummets downwards, and they stand there for the next few minutes, taking turns, not looking at each other, starting to shiver a bit as the clouds drift over. It's still four weeks till Summer really starts.

'You maybe, shouldn't worry your mom.' Dustin says carefully, and Will exhales hugely, pushing a hand over his eyes.

'...Is she worried?' He asks, in a small voice. Dustin takes pity on him and hitches up a smile. 

'Nah. She's fine. I called Lucas on emergency channel Sigma, he covered for you.'

Will drops heavily down to sit on the pebbly lakeside, wrapping his arms around his legs. Dustin lowers himself down beside him; kicks his legs out and starts digging in his pocket.

'...Sorry for...being an asshole.' Will apologizes after an awkward minute. 

' _Byres_! You kiss your mom with that mouth?' Dustin drawls in return and Will smirks despite himself. The other boy holds open a half-finished box of Nerds and says: 'You know I wanted you to come.'

Will lets Dustin pour a pile of neon-colored candy into his palm. '...Well it was never gonna happen.'

'Mr Clarke woulda totally paid your place. You're a shoe-in, three time science fair champion.'

'I...Don't think that's a real thing teachers can do.' Will replies wryly. 'And. It's not _that_ , anyway, is it?'

'I would've one hundred percent protected you from being possessed by a Mindflayer.' Dustin says, crossing his heart very seriously with one finger: 'Don't _believe_ your mom doesn't trust me...'

Will makes a face: 'I think it was the whole 'pet Demodog' thing.'

'Geez, will people let this go already!' Dustin throws his hands in the air 'A guy makes _one mistake_...' 

Will picks up another pebble; turns it over in his hand. He chucks it blindly into the water and listens to the blunt clunk as it hits the bottom.

'...You know you're leaving me with the lovebirds for four weeks, right?' He says. 'Who am I gonna talk to about _anything_?'

Dustin snickers. 'They're not that bad. Max is cool.'

'Max _is_ cool.' Will agrees 'El's cool, but--'

'--Max wants to learn how to play D&D--'

Will twists around: '--She does _not_ \--'

'--She totally does, she wants to kick Lucas' butt after he topped her score on _Asteroids_.' He grins. 'Girl has a healthy appetite for revenge.'

Will narrows his eyes at him, suspicious. But Dustin just keeps squinting out over the rippling lake and crunching on his faceful of Nerds.

The quiet falls between them. Will reaches between his feet and starts rooting half-heartedly around for another good skipping stone. Eventually, Dustin says:

'...Besides, you think I'm not gonna miss _you_? You know how _lame_ big city nerds are? It's all NASA scholarships and Rube Goldberg finalists and 'well my dad's sister's uncle's mom runs the Smithsonian' and not one of them has ever actually seen a real-life inter-dimensional energy gate.' 

Will lifts his eyebrows: '...Or broken into a dodgy government research facility.'

'Or had their friend come back from the dead and hoodwink a terrifying shadow monster with a some-might-say archaic knowledge of telegraph signalling codes. Honestly-- _amateurs_ , that's what I call 'em.' 

Despite himself, Will feels his mouth curling a bit at the corner:

'Normals, you mean.'

'No, I mean what I said.' Dustin repeats airily. 'Amateurs.' And Will almost overbalances as the other boy throws an arm out and slings it easily over his shoulders. 

'Wanna throw some more stuff?' He suggests. 'Best of three?' 

'Winner gets...?'

'A...Comic?'

He sounds unsure. Will considers:

'...Any comic?'

* _Runaway_ , Bon Jovi  



	7. Suitcase full of memories | El Hopper + Will Byres + Joyce Byres

**Suitcase full of memories* | El Hopper + Will Byres + Joyce Byres**

**  
** They decorate like they do every year - with everything they have in the house that's even vaguely hangable. Baubles, tinsel, cereal box toys, ribbon, keyrings... 

'--Wait!'

El freezes, her big eyes reflected over and over in the glass ornaments covering every available inch of the Hopper-Byres' blindingly garish Christmas tree. 

'...What?'

She sounds suspicious. 

Will rolls his eyes; jabs his finger at the little golden ring with its carefully painted lettering swinging from the multicoloured ribbon in his sister's hand. 

'Is that a replica _Ash Nazg_?' He demands, grasping for it; but El whips it out of his reach, clutching it to her chest and frowning:

'Speak English, wastoid.' 

' _Ash Nazg_? Isildur’s Bane? The One Ring of power?' Will reels off every name he can remember--because he gave El his Tolkiens to read but he _knows_ she gave up on them after _In the House of Tom Bombadil_ : he's been surreptitiously quizzing her. 'Did _Mike_ give you that?' 

'Yes, Mike gave me it.' She answers, defensive. 'For December. It's pretty'

Will feels a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He is _so_ storing up this information for later mockery.

'Wait, wait okay:' He holds up a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose like his mom does when she's getting a migraine: 'Just so we're clear. Mike celebrated your anniversary by gifting you a replica of the _most powerful cursed object in Middle-Earth_?'

'It's. Pretty.' El repeats.

It's exactly the same voice she uses before she brain punches morally-ambiguous scientists. 

'OKAY!' Their squabbling is interrupted by Will's mom, arriving in the doorway covered in cobwebs from the attic and brandishing handfuls of brightly coloured foil like cheerleading pom-poms. 

'Which one of you _horrors_ devoured all the chocolate Santa decorations then put the wrappers back in the box like I wasn't gonna notice?!'

El and Will grin at each other:

'Jonathan.' They chorus, in sweet, innocent harmony. In the confusion, Will makes another lunge for El's _Ash Nazg_ ; she jerks her chin and somehow his feet go out from under him and he lands on the rug with a thump and a faceful of tinsel. 

Joyce just mouths something pleading at the ceiling and goes to stuff the offending wrappers into the trash. 

*[ _Time After Time_ -Cyndi Lauper](https://open.spotify.com/track/1Jj6MF0xDOMA3Ut2Z368Bx)


	8. Romantic dreams falling off the silver screen | Will Byres + Jonathan Byres + Joyce Byres + Bob Newby

**Romantic dreams falling off the silver screen* | Will Byres + Jonathan Byres + Joyce Byres + Bob Newby**

'Shit, they're back, they're back! Will!'

'I'm done! I'm done, hang on, no, I'm-I'm done..!' Will holds his nerve until he's finished the cross of the 'J', then he sweeps his colored pencils back into their bag and slams them into the coffee table drawer. He dashes over to the fridge and starts levering off the magnets.

'Dessert spoons! Do we have dessert spoons?'

'I've done dessert spoons' Will shouts, then dashes across the lounge to join Jonathan peeking around the curtains at the front window and the car currently making it's way embarrassingly, _embarrassingly_ slowly down their drive.

'...Why is he going so _slow_?'

'Potholes.' Jonathan suggests. 

'Or,' Will makes a horrified face: 'Can you kiss and drive at the same time?'

The headlights flare across the front of the house and the two brothers shrink back against the curtains.

'They're _not_ kissing and driving at the same time.' Jonathan says, very definitely. 'God, don't put these images in my head.' 

Will cups his hands on the glass and peers through them, looking worried '...Maybe they hit a deer or something?' 

'They didn't _hit a deer_ , you weirdo. Have you been sniffing Loctite again?' Jonathan nudges Will in the ribs with his elbow. 'Right, c'mon, go grab your stuff...' 

Will dodges around the sofa to snatch his coat and his backpack from their spot by the kitchen table. He lifts a hand to flick off all the lights in the hall when all of a sudden something occurs to him:

'Hey-- they're not gonna go in my room, are they?'

Jonathan makes a face. 'Why would they go in your room?' 

'I dunno...' 

'More interesting question: what are you hiding in your room you don't want Bob Newby finding?'

'--Nothing!' Will retorts 'I just don't want them in my room.'

'They are definitely not going in your room, I promise. You got everything?'

'Yeah.'

Jonathan snatches his car keys from the table. 'Okay, let's go.'

**O**

They meet their mom and Bob Newby on the front steps, frozen like guilty teenagers under the sudden high beam of the porch light. 

'Hey mom!' Will calls in greeting as they barrel past. 'Hey Bob!'

Bob half lifts a hand: '...Hey, kids...'

'--Will?' His mom spins around, staring after them. 'Jonathan, where--what's going on?' She has that look on her face; the instant panic she does now that makes Will's stomach twist up. But he keeps his smile on his face as they march towards Jonathan's car.

'We're going out,' he shouts to them, walking backwards: 'we're going to the Wheeler's!'

'What, both of you?'

Jonathan wrenches the driver's side door open 'Yeah.' He agrees brightly 'We'll see you about ten, yeah?'

Their mom still has a hand curled in Bob's beige sports jacket. '...When did this happen-?'

'Dustin has the new Forbidden Forest expansion pack-- we've got a campaign to plan. We'll see you later!' 

Will yanks at the passenger door; chucks his bag over the headrest into the back-seat. He and Jonathan exchange a grin as the two grown-ups blink bemusedly after them.

' _Will_!'

Will flinches, pulls himself back out of the car:

'Jonathan's with me.' He says, as patiently as he can 'I'm _fine_ , mom.'

His mom looks at him for a moment, like she can spot all the places where he might be lying to her just by staring hard enough.

'Okay.' She says eventually 'Okay. Ten on the _dot_ , alright?'

Will grins 'Alright. See you later mom.'

'I'll see you later.'

**O**

'Well, I guess...you can come in...' Joyce says, exchanging a nervous smile with the man beside her. She can't help sounding apologetic and she hopes Bob doesn't take it the wrong way. Even without the holes in the walls her house isn't always...well...guest-worthy, on short notice. 

'I hope the boys didn't feel they had to leave...' Bob says and bless him, he sounds actually worried. 'I didn't even think they--'

'--Oh my god.' Joyce stops dead. Bob crashes into the back of her. 

The Byres' lounge is flickering in the light of a dozen candles: on the window ledge, the counter-tops, the TV unit; a cluster in the center of the kitchen table. 

'...Is something on fire?' Bob sounds ready to come to the rescue, then he catches on. 

'...Oh...Did-did your boys do this?' 

Joyce wanders around. Even in the soft, glimmering light she can see the place is spotless. Spotless like it never is. All Will's books and pencils and school stuff gone from the carpet, no washing basket on the floor, the coats lined up neatly on their hooks, the dishes done and put away. 

...She definitely didn't leave it like this this morning. 

'I have no idea what they're up to...' She says slowly, but she's starting to smile, taking it all in: the two place settings at the table; the bottle of wine (she'll scold them later for spending too much money, but for now she just wonders who they bribed to go buy it for them). Then she notices the note, pinned hurriedly to the fridge. Carefully, she steps over to squint at it.

In Will's neatest handwriting: _'Dear mom and Bob. Even Chester knows you're dating. Love, W & J'_, and in the bottom corner, a very good sketch of their dog covering his eyes with his paws in despair. 

'...Well that's just rude.' She says, unsure why her eyes are starting to sting in the corners. Then she glances down and almost cracks up: there are two packs of ping-meal Chicken Provencal by the microwave, plastic film already pierced.

'Joyce.' Bob's beside the TV, smiling hugely. In his hands he holds up two VHS rental cases: _Ghostbusters_ and _Indiana Jones_. 

'Well.' Joyce buries her face briefly in her hands: _her boys._ She goes over and makes a show of choosing; smiles a little at the cautious touch of Bob's hand at her waist. Eventually she takes _Ghostbusters_ from him, flipping the case over to read the synopsis. 'I guess it was too much to hope they'd pick something _romantic._..'

*** _Home Sweet Home_ , Mötley Crüe**


	9. Hang onto your hopes my friend | Will Byres + Mike Wheeler + Dustin Henderson + Lucas Sinclair

**Hang onto your hopes my friend* | Will Byres + Mike Wheeler + Dustin Henderson + Lucas Sinclair**

  
' _Attention all party members! This is a code white! Repeat, a code WHITE, over_!'

Will wrenches his eyelids apart, peering blearily around his darkened bedroom. Everything looks...weirdly blue? 

His walkie-talkie screeches again.

' _Dude,_ ' Lucas' voice: muffled, grumpy: ' _it's like seven in the morning, give it a rest, over!_ '

' _\-- Code white, acknowledged. Conditions looking ideal, gold leader, over._ ' It's Mike this time, sounding way too excited. Also sounding like his mouth is full of waffles. 

Conditions..? _Snow!_ Will realizes, and feels his heart speed up a bit. Snow! Proper snow. 

Then he remembers. 

Dustin's still organizing: ' _What do we think? Meeting point at Philomah Road, I say oh-nine-hundred, over?_ '

' _Oh-nine hundred is good for me. You got wax for the runners? Mine are rusty as shit, over?_ ' 

' _Your shit's rusty, Lucas, over_?'

' _Bite me, Wheeler_.'

' _Say 'over', Rusty; over._ '

' _Bite me, Wheeler, OVER!_ ' 

Will drags his covers up over his head and scowls at his transceiver. After a moment, he presses the button down:

'Guys, you'll have to go without me, over... Sorry. Over.'

He presses his nose into the top of the handset and waits for the reply. 

Waits. 

Waits.

Eventually, the bleep comes:

' _Your mom'll let you_.' it's Mike's voice. Miraculously, he sounds like he finished his breakfast before talking. ' _C'mon Will. Just ask, it's amazing out here...Over._ '

Will closes his eyes. Listens to his friends try to convince him that winter is a thing he'll be able to enjoy this year.

...But his mom's barely let him beyond arm's length the last few weeks. She wouldn't even let him go back to _school_. And honestly, he's _glad_ about that because everything's still...it's all so... 

And sledging? In Mirkwood? 

No way.

Maybe when hell freezes over. 

  
  
**O**

' _Byres! Get outta bed!_ _Over!_ '

He must've fallen back asleep, because when Dustin starts shouting again, there's sad wintry sunlight filtering across Will's bedclothes and he's still buried under his blankets with an imprint of his transceiver's speaker pressed into his cheek.

...Ouch.

'Shuddup...' He mutters, pushing at the mattress until he flops over onto his back, hugging the handset into his chest. 

' _Byres!_ ' Lucas again; loud ' _Go to your window, over!_ '

...His window?

Finally, Will opens his eyes. 

'What?' He says. Then remembers to press his talk button: 'What? Over.'

' _Go to your window!_ ' Mike yells.

Will's chest feels tight and warm, and for the first time in ages it's not _panic._

Trying not to get his hopes up, he swings his legs out of bed and pads across the icy floorboards to yank his curtains back. The windows are all steamed up with the cold. Fighting a smile, he pulls his pajama sleeve over his hand and rubs a clear circle in the middle of the windowpane.

He has to catch his breath: everything is white. _Everything_. There's six inches of snow carpeting the backyard and more still falling; a scrabble of paw-prints where Chester has freaked out and run in circles, chasing his cold tail back inside; a black trail where Jonathan's already swept a clear path down the drive, and in the middle of it all, grinning like idiots, his friends. Dustin and Lucas and Mike, standing like garden gnomes all wrapped up in their snow gear, wooly hats and gloves and snowballs ready in their hands.

Will cannot. Stop. Grinning. He fights to push his window open: 'You idiots!' he yells, and ducks as Mike lobs a snowball at his head. 

'C'mon Byres, first snow of the year!' He shouts, waving a gloved hand around at the garden 'Me and you versus these Ewoks. Get out here!'

'My mom won't let--'

'--Your mom invited us!' Dustin hollers back 'Stop making excuses for your piss-poor throwing arm!' 

That's all the encouragement he needs. 

[* Hazy Shade of Winter - The Bangles](https://open.spotify.com/track/0P2vAvvWni2tNXOdbH3JFk)


	10. Don't need to fight to prove I'm right | Max Mayfield + Lucas Sinclair + Will Byres

**Don't need to fight to prove I'm right* | Max Mayfield + Lucas Sinclair + Will Byres**

'You _can't_ kick Lucas' ass, he's been playing D&D since he could _talk_.'

'God.' Max gazes wistfully up into the cloudless Summer sky. 'Imagine Lucas not being able to talk...' 

Will pings a marshmallow at her and Max shakes herself, jamming a finger down into the wooden planking of the Byres' porch:

'Anyway, I don't need to _beat_ him; I just need to make him _think_ I can beat him.'

She arches a conspiratorial eyebrow. Will just keeps staring at her.

'What's the natural alignment of a minotaur?' He challenges.

'Chaotic evil.'

'You're an eighth level cleric; your Turn Undead action would instantly destroy an undead of CR ..?' 

'One or below.'

'Name the three most versatile melee weapons?'

'Battleaxe, longsword aaaand...' Max snaps her fingers 'Warhammer!'

'Your party consists of three level two elf fighters and a level three halfling rogue; you come across a swarm of phase spiders. Do you survive your encounter?' 

Max slams a hand down onto the board between them: 'My level three halfling rogue eats phase spiders for breakfast William; let me at 'em!'

'No! The phase spiders _kick the shit_ out of your party!' Will leans over and plucks the the dice out of Max's hand: 'Medusa Max your campaign is _over_!' 

He tosses another marshmallow towards her and this time, Max darts forward and expertly catches it in her mouth. Punches two gleeful fists in the air:

'YES!' She crows through a mouthful of sugar, curling her fingers into claws and doing her best monster-growl face: 'I am Medusa Max! Your dainty-ass elf fighters quake under my petrifying gaze!' 

She snarls. 

'You've got hair in your mouth.' Will points out. But he can't quite help grinning. 

**O**

Max and Lucas are doing their best riff on _48 Hours_ , bickering while their _Scoops_ sundaes lie melting, forgotten, beside them in the sun. 

'--Sure, but you're _embarrassingly_ under-powered against ranged weaponry; what if Dustin gets taken out by a raging Owlbear, huh? You've got no-one!'

'The-what the- an _Owlbear_ does not just _appear_ in Waterdeep, it just _doesn't happen_ \--'

'Isn't the whole point of a strategy game being prepared for anything?'

' _The point_ is to play the odds!' Lucas twists around 'Will, back me up. Will! Will you stop that?!' 

'I really, really can't!!'

'And since when did you _skateboard_ anyway!?'

Will doesn't reply because he's currently doing his best not to tip over and smash his skull open. He much prefers his bike. Bikes are awesome. He hasn't been giving brakes enough credit until this point.

He hears Lucas gasp in realization:

' _You've_ been coaching him...' He pronounces, jabbing an accusing finger at his girlfriend's unimpressed face. Max just grins and pops her bubblegum.

'-- _MaxMaxMax_ -!!!' Will shouts, trying hard not to flail as he kicks one more time to get his speed up and bends his knees '-- _Helphelphelphelp_!'

'--And _he's_ been coaching _you_!' 

'Your _back foot_ WIll! Back foot back foot back foot, pop, _draaag_ \-- ohhhh shit...' Max buries her face in her crossed knees as Will doesn't pop his board or drag his foot, sending the board skittering out from under him, whacking him in the shins and spilling him across the concrete of Hawkins Middle's schoolyard like bruised, stripy roadkill.

He rolls a couple of times before he comes to a stop. 

'...Oh god...' He whimpers 'My...ribs...'

A shadow looms over him. It's Lucas, hands jammed on his hips.

'You _traitor_.' 

'Just leave me here.' Will wheezes 'I'll die here. It's fine.'

'Is this some kind of conspiracy?'

Will groans, pulling one bleeding shin into his chest.

'...It's a skills exchange.'

'A what now?'

'For the... good of the party.' 

A second shadow bounces up. The sun is behind Max's head and she kind of looks like she's on fire. A fire elemental. Or a medusa, like she said. A fire medusa?

' _What ya doin'_ Sinclair??' She scowls, thrusting a hand towards Will's broken form. 'First rule: Don't Abandon A Party Member.' 

Lucas just groans.

**[* _Baba O'Riley_ \- The Who](https://open.spotify.com/track/5iq0Tela3gm73ZW72XZ5dm) **


	11. Crack that whip, give the past the slip | Will Byres + Nancy Wheeler

**Crack that whip, give the past the slip* | Will Byres + Nancy Wheeler**

It was winter and the Byres' house was riddled with bullet holes.

And not just bullet holes. Jonathan had explained about the ingenious, stupidly dangerous trap he and Nancy had set for the monster and how they'd finally killed the horrifying, un-explainable thing that had abducted him. But even Will hadn't really been prepared for his house being _basically in pieces_ by the time he was finally allowed to go back to it. 

(He's still waiting for someone to explain about the alphabet painted across their front room, and all the fairy lights. But he guesses they'll get there eventually.)

Anyway, fact was, it was forty degrees out and half the front wall was tarpaulin and anyone who'd ever even heard the word 'Demogorgon' was being called on to help fix the place up. Will, obviously, wasn't being allowed to do anything. But after he complained for the seven hundredth time about being stuck in his bedroom, Nancy offered in a whisper to show him the weapons haul still stuffed in the back of Jonathan's car and demonstrate what a crack shot she was despite never having held a gun in her life before she and Jonathan decided to go monster hunting. 

They wander out into the woody, overgrown land at the back of the house and Will watches Nancy load a handgun like a SHIELD agent and hit four glass bottles in a row with his heart lodged in his throat.

'I... think you killed them.' He says and his voice is...even higher than normal. Nancy smiles and blows the hair out of her face:

'Do you want a go?' She offers. But Will shakes his head. 

'Oh no. I suck... And, mom'll probably explode.'

'Hey...' Nancy drops the gun to her side. She's looking over Will's shoulder and he turns to follow her gaze. 

'...Are those kids from your class?' 

Will's stomach drops. 

Troy Walsh and James Dante. 

The others had told him how the two bullies had done their best to get back at them after Eleven humiliated Troy at school. They'd explained it all like it was a big adventure, high on Mountain Dew and choking with laughter-- but Will was horrified. They'd told him about the knife at Dustin's throat, about Mike on the edge of the quarry, choosing between jumping or getting his friend killed-- and about Eleven showing up at the last minute, throwing the two assholes into the air like they were frickin' Wall Crawlers, saving Mike from a death-fall, putting full-on _Carrie_ -at-the-Prom style fear into them with her powers. 

They'd ran away, shrieking like little girls. 

And now? Somehow Will does not think they're skulking around his house waiting to tell him how much they missed him. 

'...Will?'

Nancy's looking at him, line deepening between her eyebrows. 

Will scuffs the toe of his sneaker in the grass.

'Did um... Did Mike tell you about the cliff-edge?' He says.

Nancy looks confused for just a moment, then she glances back at Troy and James. Puts two and two together. 

Her face has the same transparency her brother's has: she can't hide her feelings for shit.

...Right now her mouth curls with a steely little smile.

'Nancy--'

But Will isn't fast enough. Before he can say _anything_ , Nancy's flicked the safety off her gun and fired two rounds into the air-- straight up, miles away from anything-- but she's staring the two bullies right in the face and-- Will watches them _shit themselves_ , dropping from the wire fence and hightailing it back out towards the road so fast he can see dust rising behind them like Wile E Coyote. 

' _Shit_ , Nancy!' He shouts, staring back towards the house and seeing the others looking out at them, wondering what the hell's going on.

Nancy just smirks; mimes blowing the smoke from the end of her gun. 

  
  
*** _Whip It_ , Devo**


	12. Moving forward using all my breath | Mike Wheeler + Will Byres

**Moving forward using all my breath* | Mike Wheeler + Will Byres**

Wordlessly, Mike hands him a box.

Will glances at it, then back at his friend: 'What's this?' 

'Well _open it_ , dingus. Or--' He starts, like he wants to take it back, freezes, drops his hands again. His left eye twitches a bit. 'No, open it.' He decides.

Will watches his face for any sign of what he's gonna find inside, but Mike has gone back to staring moodily at his sneakers. 

Cautiously, Will starts picking at the parcel tape holding the thing together and Mike sighs like he is _the most frustrating person_ he's ever come across.

It's incredibly Mike Wheeler. It's kind of great. 

'Wow, you are _such_ a pain.' Mike leans across to snag the end of the tape and rip the whole stripe off in one go. He screws it up, rolling the crackly ball nervously between his palms. 

Will looks inside. 

...The familiar cover of _Uncanny X-Men_ 129 stares back at him. Under that, 130, 131, 132...

He looks up: 'These are yours.'

Mike shrugs: 'Yours got wet.' 

Will flicks a hand through the stack of books. _Amazing Spiderman_ 248, _Daredevil_ 181, all his _Crisis of Infinite Earths_ , the _New Mutants_ Special Edition... 

All the books left out in the storm after he destroyed Castle Byres. 

For a long moment he doesn't trust his voice to say anything. He sets the box carefully down on top of all the rest of his stuff going in the back of the car. Then, quietly:

'...You... Missed _Uncanny_ one-four-one.' 

Mike makes a face and throws the screwed-up ball of sticky tape at him. ' _Byres_!' 

Then, his arms are wrapped tight around him; tight enough that Will's breath catches and he hugs Mike back, his face buried into the side of his hair and-- and Will doesn't want to go _at all_ , doesn't want to leave Mike or Dustin or Lucas or Max or his stupid falling-apart house or Hawkins or-or any of it, _any of it..._

'...I'll bring one-four-one first time I come up, alright?' Mike promises roughly into his ear. He is Very Definitely Not Crying. Will isn't either. Definitely Definitely Not Crying.

He fists his hand in the back of Mike's shirt.

Hangs on. 

Hangs on. 

'...Alright.' 

*[ _I Melt With You_](https://open.spotify.com/track/78ocJAEFOYKVjYgXZ8fggD) \- Modern English


	13. Hark how the bells sweet silver bells | Will Byres + El Hopper

**Hark how the bells sweet silver bells* | Will Byres + El Hopper**

'Hey.’ El bends a knee and nudges him in the back of the head. ‘...Eggo?’ 

Will narrows his eyes, peering up at his her through the darkness.

'You’ll turn into an Eggo.’ He grumps. El looks like this is the best idea in the world and flops down beside him on the carpet, pushing another bite of toaster waffle into her mouth.

She smiles when she notices the tree:

‘You fixed the lights!'

'Oh. Yeah.’ Will fishes a tiny electrical component out of his pajama pocket; holds it up for El to see ‘It was just the fuse. I swapped in a new one.’ 

El takes the little silver thing from his fingers, and with his other hand Will leans over to nab her last Eggo.

'Hey, moron!’

'Mouthbreather! _'_

El sticks her tongue out at him. She doesn’t like when he steals her favourite insult.

She turns her hand over. The two watch, chewing contentedly on their waffles, as the tiny fuse from the Christmas lights drifts slowly upwards, hovering above her open palm. At eye level, it starts to spin lazily, glinting in the hazy light from the tree.

Will smiles wistfully. ‘...Yeah, you’re gonna have to teach me to do that.’ He says.

They look at each other for a moment. Then, El catches the fuse out of midair and shoves it back in her own pocket. 

‘Hey. Do you wanna do presents?’

'It’s Christmas Eve. We don’t do presents till tomorrow.’ 

El presses her lips together, glancing towards the tree and the pile of colorfully-wrapped gifts underneath it.

‘I got you a thing.’ She sounds...awkward? ‘But. I don’t know if it’s...Good.’

Will bumps her knee with his own. ‘It’ll be _good_.’ He assures her. But she doesn’t look convinced:

‘We could wrap them again after and no-one would know?’ 

‘Ha, who are you, Mike Wheeler?’ Will snorts. But he’s already caving-- he likes presents as much as the next chronically underfunded fifteen year old. He glances back into the dark, sleeping house.

‘...Okay but... Just ours, yeah?’ 

They shift across the carpet. El reaches into the pile of gifts and pulls out a tiny square parcel, with one of those sticky bows on top which is like double the size the actual gift. She holds it out to him. Rattles it a bit:

‘Tell me if you hate it.’

‘I won’t _hate_ it...’

Will takes it, listening out for his mom waking up and freaking out, but smiling at El’s anxious expression as he tugs the tape as neatly as he can from one end and tilts the parcel so the gift slides out and lands in his other hand. It’s a tiny box, like for jewellery. Will frowns and pulls the lid off. 

‘It’s an Amulet of Protection. Like in your game.’ El explains quietly.

What it actually is is a tightly woven band of blue, green and red cord, with the ends tied in a sliding knot so it’s easy to adjust. It takes Will a moment to place where he’s seen it before. But then he gets it: the colours are kinda different; but El has a bracelet just like this. She wears it all the time. She's wearing it now.

Her dad had one too. 

Will looks at El. ‘You don’t like it.’ she says immediately.

‘I love it.’ Will tells her earnestly.

The answering smile on El’s face is brighter than the Christmas tree. 

Will uncrosses his legs and reaches over to yank El’s present out for her. 

‘Mine really is crappy.’ He says, handing it over, and busies himself tying the amulet around his wrist as El peels the wrapping paper off.

(It’s...fiddly as all hell. He’s never getting this off again.)

‘...You drew this?’ 

El is staring at the photo-frame in her hands. Her mouth is kinda open and Will doesn’t know if she’s flattered or horrified. 

‘Um, yeah...’ He explains. ‘It’s you as an Elf Fighter? You know... With the magic and the, being a badass.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s dumb but I did character portraits for everyone in the party and I thought it was time you got— _oof_.’ 

He’s cut off by El leaning over and wrapping her arms around his neck. Gratefully Will squeezes her back.

‘I love it.’ She says, voice muffled in his hair. 

Normally Will would try and think of something flippant to say, but...It doesn’t feel like the moment. 

When they let go of each other, tiny motes of darkness are blooming across the walls.

Will stares, blinks.

The motes keep growing.

‘El..?’

‘I see it.’

The two scramble to their feet. It’s not darkness, Will realises, spinning round; it’s... _Nothingness_.

Their breathing tears at the silence, hard and too loud. He looks to the Christmas tree: ragged with holes like he’s taken an eraser to it.

The lights flicker.

The lights flicker.

Die.

‘ _Will_.’ 

He feels El reaching for his hand and he grabs it.

‘’M here.’ Will answers, and his breath comes out in a cold mist in front of him. 

Then, a voice Will doesn’t know, sing-song and light and Will feels El wrench around:

  
‘... _Found you_...’

* _The Carol of the Bells_ , traditional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I had so much fun writing these! Especially this last one, as I had to write it all on my shitty phone keyboard at 2am on Christmas day-- I think it turned out alright anyhow.
> 
> I'm loving writing for _Stranger Things_ , so if you like my writing style and you have any prompts/scenes/character dynamics you'd like me to have a go at, please just drop me a comment! Thanks for reading :D


End file.
